Fighting for a reason
by ClosestedDork
Summary: Nick was always fighting for a reason. When Nick disturbed a sleeping Tank and almost got them killed, the group decided to find out what that reason was.


Nick is always fighting for a reason. The other survivors knew it, it was as plain as day. How he would pick up a machete and chop all the zombies around him. When someone shot the Smokers tongue off and it started to run away, Nick would chase after him until he caught him and kill him in one quick move.

At first, Coach thought Nick was just letting off steam. Ellis thought that Nick was a born killer and was just having his fun. Rochelle knew he was fighting for something. She just had no idea what.

Nick would never tell his reason. He knew the others wanted to know, but he wouldn't tell them. If they wanted to know so badly, they'll have to wait until he was dead.

The reason was in the pocket of his shirt. It would never be stained with blood, sweat, or dirt. It would only be taken out when Nick needed it the most. It was taken out when the infection started, and hadn't been taken out since.

One problem with fighting for a reason was that Nick always got hurt from the stupid things he did. This wasn't as bad as when he knocked a Hunter off and just started to beat it. Or when he ran up to a witch and punched her in the face. This time was a Tank.

The Tank didn't notice any of them at first. The Tank appeared to be asleep. Rochelle, Ellis, and Coach were all happy with this and started walking toward the safe room for some much needed rest. But Nick didn't want to leave this Tank asleep. He stood at its side, and hit it in the stomach with an ax.

"Come and get me you giant piece of crap!" He yelled as the Tank woke up ready to slam Nick into the ground. Nick laughed and ran off, shooting at the Tank as it chased toward him.

"Nick you a—hole!" Rochelle yelled shooting at the Tank with her rifle. The Tank went dead after he punched Nick halfway across the parking lot. Coach and Rochelle kept the infected that followed the sound of the Tank's scream away from Nick as Ellis helped him walk to the safe room.

"What the hell are you tryin' to do?" Coach yelled at Nick as soon as they had gotten Nick fixed up. "Are you tryin' to kill us?"

Nick didn't answer and just looked down, his eyes moving around the floor, never stopping until he was eyeing the place where his pocket was.

"Really, Nick," Rochelle spoke with a gentle voice. "We know that you want to prove something, but you don't have to get yourself killed."

"You don't have to try to get us to know you're strong and brave and shit. You remind me of when Keith thought he would wrestle the tiger in the zoo . . ." Ellis trailed off into his story.

Nick sighed. He was too sick of this. Every time he did something stupid, they would give him a big speech about how he shouldn't try to prove to them that he was tough. That wasn't what he was doing.

"Fine!" He said in the middle of the speech the three were giving. "I'll tell you why I'm always fighting."

Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. He threw it as hard as he could in no direction and headed to the room he would be sleeping in for the night.

The three stared at the paper, not knowing what to do with it. Ellis was the first to reach out and pick it up off the ground. He didn't waste time unfolding it. When it was opened, something fell out and floated to the ground.

It was a picture, but all they could see was empty back. Rochelle picked it up and handed it back to Ellis, trying hard not to look at it.

Ellis stared at the paper, a grin slowly appearing. When he looked at the picture he was shaking his head. "Unbelievable." He muttered before handing it to Coach.

Coach took at and read over the paper and picture, a grin appearing on his face. "Well I'll be damned." He said before handing it off to Rochelle.

Rochelle looked at the dark piece of paper. The first thing she noticed was a small picture of a small stick figure holding hands with a tall stick figure. A smile was already fighting its way onto her face at that small picture. Finally, she read the sloppy hand writing on the note.

'_Dear Dad _

_ Mom said I didn't have to write you a note for you because I'll see you soon but I did. I drew you a picture to. I wish you were here and not away with work. Come back soon dad. And Happy Birthday Dad! _

_ I love you Dad. Forever and Forever. _

_ Tommy' _

The date at the bottom was only two weeks before the infection hit Savannah. Rochelle didn't want to look at the picture, but her eyes desperately wanted to. It was clean and looked as if it had just been taken.

The picture was of Nick. He was wearing what you would normally see the normal next door neighbor wear, not what a conman would have on. His smile was large and happy, something none of the three survivors had seen. In his arms was a little boy with jade eyes and blond hair. His smile was just as large and happy as Nick's.

"He had a son." Rochelle said whipping the tears that threatened to escape from her eyes. "I wouldn't have guessed."

She handed the picture back to Coach, who kept smiling, shaking his head. When Ellis had it in his hands again, his smile faded way.

"He had a son. Aw shit. He had a son. Must have been terrible if he found his son." Ellis shook his head sadly. "Poor Nick. That kid just gotta be gone. No way can a kid live in this place."

Rochelle was close to crying. Here she was thinking that Nick's little boy was alive and far from his own father, it didn't even cross her mind that Tommy would be dead.

The three were so wrapped up with wondering about Nick's son that they didn't even hear a door open or footsteps walk into the room. Nick cleared his throat, stirring the survivors from their thoughts.

"Can I have my picture—" Nick was cut off by Rochelle hugging him tightly.

"Oh Nick," She sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm sorry about your son. He looks so beautiful and sweet. I am so sorry."

Nick stood there, confused, wondering what in the hell on earth was she doing.

"Yeah man," Ellis joined in. "Must be tough losing a kid."

If Rochelle wasn't still hugging him, Nick would've punched Ellis at the moment.

"We have no idea you had a son." Coach started. He was about to say more when Nick pulled away from Rochelle's grip and interrupted him.

"I _have _a son. Tommy is still out there. He's in New Orleans, either he was rescued, or he's waiting for me to get him." He stopped talked for a second to see all the shocked faces on his teammates.

"Nick," Ellis started. "You gotta understand Tommy is most likely gone. There's no way a four year ol' could live through this."

"Tommy is five!" Nick said sternly toward him. "Our birthdays are only a week apart, so his mother took him down to New Orleans for he could see the sights. Like he would remember them later one, but hey, it was her idea, and I didn't say no. I was on my way there, but the boat I was on stopped in Savannah. Then the infection hit. . ."

Nick stopped talking and looked at picture that was still in Ellis's hand. Ellis handed it back to him swiftly. Once he had the picture of Tommy and him in his hands, he stared at it. His eyes didn't leave it as he started to tear up. He didn't stop the tears from flowing and landing on the picture.

"I was never around." He said more to himself then to the others. "Always away, doing whatever it was to get money. I saved the money for Tommy could go to college when got older. I bought him little things for his birthday because I didn't want him to see me and ask for presents. When we divorced, she took him, but I visited nearly every week. Then, every month. Soon, it was every few months."

He whipped his eyes and turned away from the picture to see a hunter outside the door, thinking about how he could get in. Finding no possible way he could do it alone, he left. Nick turned back to Rochelle, Ellis, and Coach, who were staring at him, waiting for him to say something.

"Happy?" He asked softly. "Now you know why I almost kill myself every time we leave. It's because of Tommy. Because I know he is waiting for me in New Orleans. Because if I kill one of those mealy-mouthed bastards, then I just killed one more that could have stopped me from getting Tommy."

They didn't talk about the picture or note for the next few days. They didn't try to get Nick to tell them more about Tommy. When it was time to go, and Nick almost got himself killed again, they didn't give him a speech about trying to prove something.

Nick secretly wanted them to. He wanted to go on and on for hours about Tommy, just like what Ellis could do with Keith. But he didn't have to tell them how much Tommy meant to him because he would show it every time they went out.

Nick is always fighting for a reason. Where that reason is, he can't say. But he knows that reason it always with him, right in his shirt pocket, telling him to fighting harder, and save him from what this world has turned into.

* * *

**This was on my DA for a while. I didn't get many views or comments but, whatever. Tommy is all mine. I created him and I will write more with him in it. I'm the only one who knows the outcome of Tommy! **

**Anyways, if this sucks, sorry. I wrote this in two hours and thought it was good enough so I uploaded it. **

**Comment if ya wanna. **


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